


a dance with you

by andnowforyaya



Series: as you are (himdaelo pet au) [2]
Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, M/M, Multi, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:24:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7967722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been three days and Daehyun still did not know what to make of Junhong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a dance with you

“Little Princeling,” Junhong said, lounging idly on Daehyun’s bed. “I am bored.” He was wearing a pair of loose, blue silk pants that cinched at his ankles, and he was bejeweled in silver and sapphire: a ring in his belly button and bangles all up one forearm, chains around both ankles, and that silver stud in the side of his nose.

It had been three days and Daehyun still did not know what to make of Junhong. He wondered if Himchan had perhaps gifted Daehyun the wrong pet. Junhong did not listen or kowtow to him in any way. He often used his size to intimidate Daehyun into rescinding any request he made of him, and was sweetly smug after. On their first day together he’d asked Junhong to fetch him a glass of water -- a simple request, surely -- but he’d somehow found himself drinking the water out of Junhong’s callused palm.

It did not help that Daehyun had no time to discipline, or to even think about what disciplining a pet meant. The month before the wedding was full of events and activities, and he spent a majority of his day being shuttled from room to room for measurements for his wedding hanbok, to taste the dishes that would be served, to learn the dances and rituals he would have to perform that day. Junhong would follow, but of course at his own pace, strutting about leisurely into the room where Daehyun was being told to hold his arms this way and that. Jongup -- his poor servant and friend -- often looked between the two of them with a frenzied sort of expression on his face, not sure how to deal with someone who was so full of nonchalant disrespect for his prince, not sure if he _could_ , if Daehyun himself hadn’t said anything.

Daehyun thought of Junhong at dinner and exhaled steadily to keep the quietly building rage from bubbling over. He’d allowed Junhong to come with him to dinner, for Junhong to sit behind him on a cushion for the meal, because it would have been rude not to; it would have been rude to show up alone without Himchan’s gift in his presence, as though he were spurning him.

But Junhong had been...needy. There was no other way for Daehyun to describe such behavior. The more Daehyun ignored the pet, the more Junhong did to get the young prince’s attention -- balancing a grape on his nose, or piling the crackers he’d been given into a tower as high as he could build. It had been embarrassing, Daehyun’s cheeks flaming as Himchan and Himchan’s family tittered behind their sleeves and fans, as Himchan himself smiled tight-lipped at Daehyun, his expression unreadable.

Finally, tired of Junhong’s antics, Daehyun had turned to his pet and chastised him to the best of his ability. “If you do not behave, you will sleep on the floor tonight!”

Junhong had quieted, but only for a moment. As Daehyun watched, his lips had curled up at the corners, his eyes twinkling in victory. “So _if_ I behave, I shall sleep in your bed?”

It wasn’t fair, Daehyun thought. He’d never dealt with a pet before, and certainly not one as devious as Junhong. The jewelry Junhong wore had sparkled in the light of the many lanterns lining the dining hall, and he’d looked like an ethereal creature from the moon.

Daehyun had turned away, unable to answer.

In the end, and for the past few nights, Junhong had slept at the foot of Daehyun’s bed like a dog, content to curl around his master’s feet.

“I do not care that you are bored,” Daehyun said, facing the window and lifting his arms again. Jongup had been called to learn the rituals he’d be performing during the ceremony as well, so for the afternoon and evening it was just to be he and the pet and a smattering of attendants who slunk into the shadows or into other nearby rooms, ready to be called upon. It was a few hours until the dinner meal would be served, the sun starting to set behind frosty mountain peaks outside, and Daehyun was practicing the dance he’d been taught earlier that day.

It was a complicated dance that involved the use of a fan and scarf. Daehyun had seen the dance before when he was very young and traveled with his family to other kingdoms, but he’d never had to perform it. His own kingdom had a variation of the dance, but instead of a fan and a scarf, the props were ribbons. Though the footwork was similar, the hands and arms and expressions were completely different due to the different props. More than once as he practiced, Daehyun tripped over his own feet, ankle getting caught in the dragging scarf or losing his grip on the fan as he tried to open it with a flick of his wrist.

The Crown Prince was meant to join him in the middle of the dance. It would symbolize their union when they performed it together for the ceremony, but all Daehyun could think about now was how awful it would be for him and for everyone involved when he made a mess of Prince Himchan’s toes after stomping all over them.

“You are thinking of the fan as a dead thing, Princeling,” he heard Junhong say from his comfortable position on his bed. “It is not a dead thing. It flutters as though alive.”

“It is a fan,” Daehyun grumbled back, landing heavily on one foot that he had raised in the air after being distracted. “It’s not as though it will fly away from me.”

“Ah,” Junhong said loftily. “But it might.” Daehyun glanced back at Junhong and found him grinning. His pet always seemed to be grinning, always seemed to be on the verge of discovering some hidden secret, some meaning.

“I suppose _you_ could do better?” Daehyun asked, temper getting the better of him. Damn the stupid dance and damn his pet and damn this marriage. He was going to be exiled for making a fool of their Crown Prince anyway, so what was the point of all this?

In his anger at himself, he hadn’t noticed Junhong move from the bed, and now his pet was standing before him, his smooth, marble-like skin just within reach of Daehyun’s fingertips. Daehyun’s breath caught in his throat.

Despite all his misgivings, despite how uncertain his pet made him, Daehyun had to concede that Junhong was beautiful. His long hair was pulled back from his face and secured in a ponytail, but when he let it loose it fell like a black curtain over his shoulders and upper back. Daehyun kept his hair tied back simply with a ribbon, sometimes in a braid with the ribbon woven through, and this felt childlike and innocent in comparison. Junhong’s eyes were a dark, velvety brown, and sometimes when he smiled Daehyun could find in them little flecks of amber honey. He was easily twice Daehyun’s size in the breadth of his shoulders, and nicely muscled throughout -- muscles that were toned through endurance, and not built bulkily for strength.

Though he was definitely strong, Daehyun thought.

“May I?” Junhong asked, bowing slightly when Daehyun did nothing but glare. He held his hands out, gesturing for the props.

Flustered, Daehyun very nearly threw the fan and scarf at him. “Oh, very well.”

Junhong caught them easily, and bit his lip to keep from smiling too wide as Daehyun stalked off and threw himself onto the bed, watching Junhong from his position on his stomach, his simple white hanbok spreading around him.

“The trick,” Junhong said towards his reluctant audience, “is all in the wrists.”

Daehyun scoffed, because of course he knew that! He pouted into his arms and kicked his ankles into the air.

But then Junhong began to dance.

It was almost as though Daehyun could hear the beating of the drums and the mournful singing of the _haegeum_ as Junhong moved like liquid across the floor of his bedroom. There was something enchanting about the way Junhong danced. His hips swayed rhythmically, the blue fabric cinching around his waist and knees and ankles and tempting Daehyun with every step. The fan opened and closed at Junhong’s whim, with a twirl of his wrist, over his head, to the side, closed again to switch hands, and the scarf followed. It seemed to be a part of him, swirling around him as he danced, accentuating every curve of muscle.

It was over too soon, and Junhong was glistening with a very light sheen of sweat. Daehyun’s cheeks heated as he watched the rapid rise and fall of Junhong’s chest, at how the dusky pink area around his nipples had tightened.

Junhong was waiting for him to say something.

Daehyun cleared his throat. “U-um,” he said. “You are quite good.”

Junhong laughed, not unkindly. He bounced lightly on his toes to keep loose, the chains around his ankles jingling. “I should be, Princeling,” he said. “I was trained in dance for many years.”

“Are all pets trained in dance?” Daehyun asked.

“Yes,” Junhong said, smile faltering a little. “Though not to the same degree. Some specialize.” A beat passed, and Junhong opened the fan again with a flick of his wrist, the sudden noise startling Daehyun. Junhong chuckled and Daehyun scowled.

“I can teach you,” Junhong offered. “If you wish. I know the part the Crown Prince is to perform well.”

Daehyun’s heart leapt at the thought. All he wanted was not to make a fool of himself. But he wasn’t sure of the proper form of these things. Could the pet teach him? Was that allowed in the customs and rules he’d yet to familiarize himself with in this strange, cold kingdom? He wished he could ask someone without feeling ignorant, but the only person he’d feel comfortable asking such a question was Jongup, who no doubt did not have the answer himself and would advise Daehyun to do as he believed was best.

Daehyun chewed on his bottom lip, a habit his mother had tried to scold out of him. “If you teach me,” he started slowly. “You cannot tell anyone of our lessons.”

“I wouldn’t betray my master’s secrets,” Junhong said quickly and forcefully, chin raised in defiance or deference, Daehyun couldn’t tell. Maybe it was pride.

Daehyun nodded and slid from his bed, his hanbok settling around him. He tightened his ponytail and walked to Junhong, and so their lesson began.

.

Junhong was not a good teacher. This quality, perhaps, is not something Himchan had been looking for in particular when searching for a gift for Daehyun. How could he have known his future husband would be so clumsy in the area of vertical movement?

He was not a good teacher, but he was patient, and, Daehyun discovered, kind.

“You are thinking too much, Princeling,” Junhong told him after the fifth time Daehyun got turned around during a complicated step in the dance. He was supposed to be facing east but he was facing west, and the fan and scarf were in the wrong hands. He stomped his feet in frustration. “Perhaps we should try again.”

They tried again. Junhong counted the beats slowly so Daehyun could keep up, but still he failed, facing east.

“Ah!” Daehyun shouted, throwing the fan and scarf to the ground. The fan clattered satisfactorily, but the scarf fluttered like flower petals in the wind. Daehyun kicked at it, getting his foot tangled in the sheer fabric.

“My Prince,” Junhong started, when Daehyun sat on the ground and grabbed the scarf angrily, twisting it around and round and getting it even more tangled. He ripped at it. It was a stupid scarf!

“I hate this dance!” Daehyun said, a dangerous well of feeling building behind his eyes. “And your customs -- I don’t understand them. And this horrible cold weather.” He sat, tearing at the scarf until it came undone, and then he bundled it into a tight ball and threw it as far as he could, which was not very far at all given the density of the object. This, for some reason, drew Daehyun to tears, and his cheeks became damp in an instant. “I miss my family, and the ocean, and _warmth_. I knew this dance perfectly back home. Here -- here, I don’t know anything.”

He drew his knees to his chest and cried into the fabric of his hanbok, knowing he should feel ashamed. It seemed it didn’t matter what he did; he’d made a fool of himself anyway.

He expected Junhong to laugh at him, or to say something crude, but all that happened was Daehyun felt a presence settle behind him, and then his hair was being loosened from its tie.

His head shot up, stunned. “What are you doing?” he asked Junhong, who was sitting on the floor with him, legs spread so that Daehyun fit between them. Junhong removed the tie and carded his long fingers through Daehyun’s hair, the action at once soothing and comforting as he felt himself being brought to rest against Junhong’s chest.

“I have been told that hair pulled back too tight may lead to stress and headaches,” Junhong said. “Would your highness like me to braid it, instead?”

Daehyun sniffled, feeling young, and nodded. He let Junhong comfort him with this simple act, felt himself be lulled to a safe place with the repetitive motions and with Junhong’s fingers massaging his scalp. Junhong wove a blue ribbon through the braid and tied it at the end. “Perfect,” he said, after some time passed.

Daehyun flushed. His tears had dried, but the embarrassment remained. “I apologize that you -- had to see me like that,” he said. “It was not proper.”

“Princeling,” Junhong said, “I am your pet. Whatever it is you need, I am here to provide. There need not be proper or improper between us.”

“But still…” Daehyun began, trailing off. He did not know how to end that sentence, because he wanted very much what Junhong was saying. A friend, perhaps?

Junhong kissed his temple, and Daehyun warmed at the contact. It made him feel shy, but it was not unpleasant. “You are in a new place, with new people and new customs. Of course it will be hard, but I hope I can at least be a little comfort to you, over the next few days and beyond.”

“Then why have you been so contrary before this?” Daehyun asked stubbornly, feeling his lips form a full pout.

Junhong chuckled and the sound rumbled from deep in his chest. “I suppose you’ve awoken a protective instinct in me, My Prince,” he said. “Prince Himchan must have known it was there all along.”

Daehyun did not know what to say to that. Thoughts of his future husband filled his mind. He wondered if Himchan could really be as wonderful as he presented himself to be -- kind and thoughtful, dominant and forgiving.

He hoped for it.

.

At dinner, Junhong sat behind him on the jeweled cushion for pets, hands in his lap. Daehyun had chosen for him to wear soft pink and rose gold, and he thought his pet out of all of them was by the far the prettiest that evening.

There were a few other pairs Daehyun was coming to recognize around the dining hall. Prince Himchan’s good friend was a man named Bang Yongguk, who had been introduced to Daehyun as the General’s son, and he had a pet who came to sit by his side during meals, well-behaved and beautiful, his skin as pale as Junhong’s but hair as inky black as midnight. His eyes were like a cat’s, and the leather collar he wore only added to the image.

Daehyun beckoned Junhong forward, to sit by his side, and Junhong made the shift eagerly, grin on his lips. The Crown Prince’s gaze flickered toward them, sending a little thrill up Daehyun’s spine.

He fed Junhong from his plate and his hand that night, much to Junhong’s delight, his reward for the lesson and for much more than that. It was lovely to see his pet fed and pleased, Daehyun thought, feeling that he could finally understand at least a sliver of why anyone bothered to have a pet. Junhong was under his care, Daehyun realized. But he was just as much under Junhong’s, also.

When dinner ended, Junhong gave Daehyun a chaste kiss on his cheek, and Daehyun blushed pink and hot, unaccustomed to public displays of affection. Junhong drew away, leaving him with a whispered, “He is watching, Princeling.”

Daehyun’s breath left him as his gaze was drawn to Himchan’s.

The Crown Prince was watching him with hooded eyes, a small smile on his lips. As their eyes met, Daehyun felt his skin flush, and noticed happily that Himchan looked rather warm-cheeked himself. He nodded at Daehyun and flashed him a charming smile that had Daehyun’s heart beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

Then, just as abruptly, Himchan turned away, deep in conversation with Bang Yongguk.

.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! comments appreciated.


End file.
